


Charges of Assault and Battery

by lovesrogue36



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesrogue36/pseuds/lovesrogue36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juliette had no idea the repercussions of letting Sean Renard into her life, let alone her home. Written for htbthomas in the Grimm Exchange Round 2 - December 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charges of Assault and Battery

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Grimm nor am I associated with any of the actors, directors, writers or producers.

“What happens if I let you in?” It was a loaded question if there ever was one, double and triple meanings layered in the soft, feminine voice that had come to haunt his dreams (not to mention his nightmares.)

Renard shook his head slightly, the confession perhaps the most honest words he’d ever spoken to her. “I don’t know.”

Juliette held his gaze, level and calm, for the length of several heartbeats before pressing up onto her bare toes to kiss him. It wasn’t the tentative first kiss they’d shared nor was it the mindless heated kiss at the spice shop. Rather, there was the discernible taste of resignation to whatever irrational fate lay ahead of them.

If either of them had turned a few inches to look down the street, they’d have seen Nick blatantly watching them from his car but they were much too absorbed in each other to notice (or perhaps even to care.)

Renard’s fingers curled at her waist, the gesture intimate and comfortable as he followed her inside, the door sliding shut behind him with a whisper of guilty trysts and reckless seductions. “Thank you. For letting me in,” he murmured as she turned from him. “We really should talk. I know this hasn’t been easy, for either of us, but-”

“No.” The single word was sharp and cut him short.

“No? Juliette, I know this is all terribly confusing but-”

“ _No,_ no. I mean, no more _talking_.” He looked stunned and rather confused for a moment so she leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a hard, no-questions-necessary kind of kiss.

It took him only a moment to recover before large hands wrapped firmly around her arms and there was no turning back, of that she could be absolutely certain. Renard held her so tightly it occurred to him how slight and delicate she was, how breakable. There wasn’t a living soul he would admit to how arousing the thought was.

Juliette stumbled blindly backwards to a table, tearing his shirt open on the way even as he bared her shoulders with a violent tug. His lips closed over her pulse point, fingers tight and tangled in her hair. “Oh Juliette…” The whisper of her name with just traces of a French accent were enough to undo whatever inhibitions she had left and the remainder of the evening played out like flashes seared into her half-empty memory.

Early morning sunlight found them curled against the headboard, having made it to the bed sometime around midnight. Juliette blinked sleepily, stroking the backs of her fingers across his bare chest. “I’m afraid to face the real world after that,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“So don’t. Come home with me. No one needs to know about this yet.” His eyes remained closed but the weight of his arm across her shoulders increased and he flexed his fingers against the creamy white skin of her collarbone.

“Except Monroe. And Nick.” Juliette heaved a sigh, rolling slightly onto her elbow, pressing open-mouthed kisses on his chest. “This storm is just beginning.”

Renard rested his hand in her hair, relishing the soft brush of her skin on his. “Don’t worry about Nick. I’ll handle him.” His voice was low, unrushed, almost as though she would lift her head to find him fast asleep.

“I may not know him but I know he doesn’t deserving a dressing down from you, not after everything. Just let him stew for a while; he’s a reasonable man and I’m sure he won’t give you any trouble. He knows I just don’t love him,” Juliette admonished, nestling deeper in his arms.

“Ah, but he loves you and the most reasonable of men will do terribly unreasonable things for love. I, for one.”

A heavy pause spread between them and she tipped her head back to meet his half-closed eyes. “Is this love?

Renard cracked his eyes open, lifting a hand to her pale cheek. “It wasn’t,” he answered honestly, thoughtfully. “But it could be.”

Juliette bit her lip, holding his gaze steadily before leaning in for a quick kiss. “I need to get ready for work,” she murmured, slipping out of bed before he could protest.

He watched her dress, pondering the Grimms and their ill-fated fairy tales of love and romance and magic. He may have also crossed his mind that Sleeping Beauty loved the prince, <i>loved</i> him, but he squelched both stray thoughts and reached for his own scattered clothes.

\---

Nick paced outside the Exotic Spice and Tea Shop, nearly wearing a hole in the pavement as Monroe fumbled to unlock the door. “You really saw them kissing, right there on the _porch?_ Man, I’m sorry. I never guessed Juliette’s curse would come to _this_. And your _boss!_ How low can you go, right?”

“Not helping, Monroe,” Nick all but barked, rubbing a hand over his unshaven jaw. “She’s never going to get her memory back. She’s never going to remember me and she’s going to run off and marry _Sean_.” Where a few days before, the name would have been friendly and familiar, today it was all he could do not to spit it out for the horrible taste it left in his mouth.

“She _could._ I told you, these memory deals are tricky and cuckoo love spells? Waaay trickier.” Monroe finally shoved the door open, the bell jangling irritably. He huffed, gesturing Nick inside, the shop impossibly dark compared to the relative sunshine outside. “Unless, of course, she sleeps with him.”

Nick stopped stock still so the blutbad nearly ran into him. “What?”

“Unless she sleeps with him. Since he’s the one that woke her up, well, that’d pretty much seal the deal on her memory loss. Effectively replacing you with him. It’s all very screwed up, Old World stuff, man.” Monroe gave Nick a no-brainer sort of look before realization dawned. “Ohhh.” He straightened, keys scraping together in his hand. “You don’t think they…”

“She invited him _in_ , Monroe. Somehow I don’t think they were _braiding each other’s hair_ last night!” Nick threw up his hands, nearly knocking several bottles of potentially poisonous substances (although Monroe wasn’t certain; he didn’t trust his memory of these things after the grandfather clock incident) off the shelf with the ferocity of the gesture.

“Boy. I’m sorry, man. That’s pretty much it then. The spell would have been tricky to break if she were willing to let me try _before_ but now… pretty much out of my hands.” Monroe gestured with what he hoped was a sympathetic frown.

“I’ll kill him.”

Monroe grabbed Nick’s shoulder, fingers tight, only the slightest reminder that he wasn’t entirely the sweater vest-wearing clockmaker he appeared to be. “Nick. You can’t go all Grimm on a guy just because he stole your girlfriend. He’s as much a victim of this curse as she is and as you are.”

“Bullshit. He knew to come here; he knew what was happening to him. He must have known about me, he must have known what was wrong with her and yet he went behind my back and made her fall in love with him.” Nick grit his teeth, knocking Monroe’s hand off his shoulder. “I’ll _kill_ him.”

It was a voice Monroe had usually only heard reserved for evenings of Wesen-ass-whooping and particularly loathsome criminals. “He’s a _police captain_. Don’t you think it will be a little suspicious if he just up and disappears?” Logic had never worked on crazy-Grimm-Nick in the past but, then, Monroe was nothing if not optimistic.

“So maybe I won’t kill him. I’ll just beat him within an inch of his life until he admits he’s only using her, like everyone else has used her. Like Adalind used her and Ariel. She deserves _better_ than that, even if it isn’t me.” Although he had waited (im)patiently outside the shop for half an hour before Monroe arrived, he didn’t seem terribly interested in hanging around for a sensible, man-to-man kind of chat. Nick brushed past him, the door slamming in his wake and the poor abused bell finally snapping from its ribbon to crash on the floor in an admittedly rather ominous display.

Monroe reached for the phone, dialing a number that had become rather familiar in recent history. “Hank? It’s Monroe. Listen, I think… we’ve got a problem.” He paused for the questioning reply before wincing. “Pretty sure Nick’s gone off to kill your boss?”

\---

It should have been difficult to nab a police captain from the parking garage.

Nick was surprised to discover that it really wasn’t.

Then again, Renard wasn’t protesting too hard. Nick wanted to think it was a guilty conscience but then, that would just be too easy.

Neither man spoke as Nick drove deeper and deeper into the forest, trees closing in behind them like deep green curtains around a well-guarded secret. The sky was pitch black with no moon when he finally came to a stop in a small clearing, chosen for no particular reason other than he was tired of waiting and driving and thinking. The headlights shone on stray drops of moisture and dew lingering in the air from last night’s rain and a rabbit momentarily caught by surprise.

“Get out of the car,” Nick ordered, voice harsh.

Renard obeyed, knowing exactly how foolhardy it would be to try and fight back against a pissed-off Grimm in the middle of nowhere. He was unbound and relatively free but Nick would still greatly have the upper hand. Leaning one hand against the hood of the car, he heaved a sigh, squinting at Nick standing in the headlight beam. “I suppose you want answers.”

“No. I don’t care about _why_ you did it or really even _what_ you did. I care that I won’t ever get to kiss Juliette again or touch her or so much as look at her and know what she’s thinking. _You_ took that away from me.” Nick’s fist drove firm and fast into Renard’s stomach, doubling the taller man over with a groan. “ _You_ forced me to become the Grimm I hated, the Grimm that would do _this_.” The second punch landed squarely on his jaw, lip splitting and bleeding.

The third might well have cracked a rib or two but Renard caught his fist in the palm of his hand, blocking the hit with relative ease. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, free hand clutching his side. “I can’t imagine being without her and I _am_ sorry.”

Nick scoffed, throwing up his hands. “You’ve known her _how long?_ ”

“Long enough.” Renard straightened stiffly, swiping at a drip of blood on his lip. “She’s in my head, all the time, and it isn’t just the damn spell.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“Because I slept with her and I still want her. Because I can’t stop thinking about her but my nightmares are about other people hurting her, not me. It isn’t violent or obsessive, although I thought it was, at first.” Renard glanced away into the dark depths of the forest around them. “Because I think I love her.”

“Yeah, well, I loved her first. And she _used_ to love me.” Nick sank onto the bumper with a self-indulgent sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. “How did we get here?”

“You kidnapped me and drove like a maniac into the middle of a forest,” Renard replied with what some might categorize as characteristic dry wit but at that particular moment was nothing but grating on Nick’s nerves.

“ _Here_ , this place where I’m sleeping in Monroe’s spare room and you’re in love with my girlfriend and my girlfriend thinks I’m a secret-keeping nutjob.”

Before Renard could answer, a second pair of headlights bobbed up behind them, Monroe’s car coming to a screeching halt. He and Hank were out of the car almost before it had stopped, relief and trepidation sharing equal time on their faces. “Nick? Nick, now, don’t do anything rash, okay?” Monroe called, hands out as though Nick were a startled horse.

“I’m not gonna kill him.” Nick rolled his eyes. “I just thought a little kidnapping and assault and battery would like nice on my resume, is all.”

Renard laughed thinly, waving him off. “I’m not going to be pressing charges here. My behavior hasn’t exactly been exemplary either so we’ll call it a draw.”

“What in the _hell_ is going on here?” Hank stood, hand resting on his holster and eyebrows knit in irritation. “I’ve seen a lot of weird things in the last few weeks but kidnapping the captain has got to be the final straw, Nick.”

“It’s all right, Hank, it’s all right. If it’s at all defensible, I quite possibly deserved at least the assault and battery if not the kidnapping.”

Nick stood, dusting off his pants. “Appreciate you coming all the way out here though. Nice thought, save me from myself.”

“Ahh, I didn’t really think you were going to kill him,” Monroe shrugged, haphazardly blowing him off. “It was Hank here that was really worried, insisted we come after you.” He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring the distinct eyerolls he received from Nick and Hank.

“We just needed to talk. Somewhere quiet.” Nick gestured to the forest around them as though that just explained everything before turning quickly to land one last punch on Renard’s chin, knocking him back off the bumper into the rather soggy ground. “Just for good measure. The assault and battery helped more than the talk, got to admit.”

Renard groaned as Hank rushed to his aid, holding up a hand in the universal male sign of pride being more bruised than flesh and bones. In the dim shadows just beyond the headlights, Monroe heaved a sigh. “Just wait until this all gets back to Juliette. _Then_ we’ll see some assault and battery on _all_ our asses.”

 

 

 


End file.
